Glory in the Flower
by ThingsLeftBehind
Summary: Logan has been running from his problems for a while but will finding Kendall finally allow him to confront them in his life-changing senior year of high school? AU/Abuse/I usually like to swear.../something I'm forgetting...
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: The Cliché Romance of a nerd and a jock. Logan was happy at one point in his life, only for it to be taken away by cruel fate. Now he mourns silently in despair, hoping he can just get away from it all. But maybe Logan will finally stop running from his problems after he meets Kendall and expierences a life-changing Senior Year.**

**_Disclamer:_ I do not own Big Time Rush, or any of the members of the band/tv show no matter how much I wish I did. I also don't own anything that belonds to William Wordsworth, but that excerpt of the poem is a strong influence of the story. I only really own Ms. White so far...but not really because its the name of my actual english teacher lol.**

**_Glory in the Flower_**

_What though the radiance that was so bright,_

_Be now forever taken from my sight._

_Though nothing can bring back the hour_

_Of splendor in the grass; of glory in the flower;_

_We will not grieve, rather find_

_Strength in what remains behind._

_-William Wordsworth._

**Prologue:**

My name is Logan Mitchell and I never thought my life would change so drastically from one silly decision. To think it was one decision that I had no say in. Where I am now however, I don't think I could ever imagine saying no to that decision. I couldn't imagine my life without it; without him. Just thinking about a life gone by spent without that radiant smile plastered onto tan skin. The blonde locks that delicately fall over his countenance like tresses of an angel descended from heaven. How could I not spend all those joyous days with him?

It seems like it was just yesterday, when he was Mr. Popular and I remained completely under the entire school's radar. I was a nerd, well I still am, and I was a total outcast of the school. I don't really remember much before that day. I think what I do remember the most about my life before that decision isn't all that much. I remember a few of those happy moments in that part of my life. You know the ones that you'll always treasure about your parents. All of mine always held the delicate beauty of my mother's smile.

If it hadn't been for all those wonderful times, I would have gone insane long ago. She's gone now; she's been out of my life for what seems almost an eternity. I was about eight years old when she died. She died on May 15th 2000, the day after Mother's day ironically enough. That mother's day was the last of my happy memories for a very long time. It seems like it wasn't really all that long ago.

I had been getting an allowance since I was the age of six, a meager 25 cents a day. My mother had started it on my birthday to teach me about the value of money of course. Even though it wasn't much she told me that a little goes a long way. I learned how to save it because one day it would be a lot. Well two years had passed and Mother's day was just around the bend. All the saving had finally added up to about 182 dollars from holding out for so long. I had used a majority of it to buy the most beautiful gold chain with an exquisite golden heart attached to it. It had originally been about 200 dollars but the lady selling it thought I was so adorable for wanting to spend my own money for my mother that she only made me pay $175 for it. I remember the woman's eyes sparkled when I had told her I had been saving up for two years. There was a lingering trace of sympathy within it and I'm sure she wished that when she had children of her own that they would love her like I loved my own mother.

The day finally came, and I couldn't wait to give my mother the most beautiful present she had ever gotten from me. She came home that day and I gave her the necklace later that night. Her face lit up like a miniature version of a sun and her smile glistened with a white sparkles. It was the last time I saw her smile.

The next day, she had gone out, before I had gotten up, to get some milk at the store. I was up though; I had heard her move about the house quietly as I was lying in bed. It was roughly six in the morning when she left. On the way to the store, she was hit by a drunk driver. She was hanging onto a thread and when the paramedics got there she was barely alive. She died on the way to the hospital.

When I was told about the news, I cried for days, maybe even weeks. I remember what had made me stop crying. My father told me that the last thing she said was that she had loved me. That she'll always love me. That helped, but that wasn't what finally made me stop. He told me that he got the possessions she had that day of the accident and told me something else she had said in the ambulance. She had also told the paramedics that she wanted to give me the necklace I had given to her so that I would always remember that she loved me.

Now, I miss her all the time and as much as I wish she was with me, I know she's in a better place and it was a blessing in itself that I was still a child when she died. As much as she would have loved to see me grow up, it's nice to know she enjoyed the greatest gift of all; that she got to love and be loved by purest of all souls, the soul of a child. I don't think a day goes by when I don't spare a thought for her.

For a long time, I thought I would never escape the misery that followed after her death. I believed that I would never get over my heartache but I suppose that silly little decision led me to think otherwise. If it hadn't been for him, well I don't know what I'd do. Yes, a heart can be broken but it still keeps beating the same.

**Chapter One: Another Day?**

Logan Mitchell lay asleep in his bed that sat against the corner of the wall furthest away from the bedroom door. This room seemed to possess the qualities that only a child could bring to it. There were abandoned toys collecting dust on shelves and a small, wooden dresser that had been painted white with baby blue drawers. The rug displayed a picture of the child-friendly ideals of a neighborhood, containing homes, a school, fire station, and even a hospital. The only furniture that indicated the person residing there was near the age of an adult was the bed. At the first look it was the room of a child, in reality however, it was the room of a grown awkward teenager.

The air that filled the room was stiff and cold. It was dark in the room that chilly Minnesota morning and the only light that seemed to exist in the room came from the small crack between the window and the sides of the blinds. The weak ray of the morning sun merely lingered in a pathetic attempt as it struggled to even get through the window. The ray would soon learn that anything joyful that entered the room was destined to wither and die.

That was when Logan's eyes began to flutter open to the diminished sad song of a bird chirping near his window. His eyes maintained baggage that loitered just below his lines in dark circles. As he listened for a moment to the bird, he contemplated on whether he was awake or if it was a continuation of the nightmares he has every night. He thought about it for a few moments and came to the conclusion that it didn't matter because whether it was reality of fantasy, both seemed to haunt him wherever he was.

His joyful mother laid six feet under cold dirt and his father might as well be there. After Mrs. Mitchell had passed away, home life was never the same. His father was strong and caring for the first couple of months, no doubt to his natural attitude and being a doctor, but over time he slowly began to deteriorate. He just stopped caring after a while.

It was small things at first, so small that some wouldn't even notice the changes in his demeanor. The first thing to happen was that he started to dive into work. It started happening not even three weeks after her accident. He would spend days, nights at work; night shifts at a hospital can get lonely, but what kept him going was most likely the desire to help other people. Perhaps he even thought that he could save as many of the people who made it to the hospital; people who had the chance that his wife never had.

About five or six months after she passed, he seemed even further out of it. Rather than being at work for long periods of time, he would go in many short bursts. However, he still spent little time around the house and after a while, the bar became a regular for him. Occasionally, he would be so drunk on his ass that he would get so angry his head would explode. He never really intended to end up this way but life has a funny way of changing into the worst situations.

At first, Logan tried to make his father happy when he was home, but it all seemed to be pointless. He tried for a year to remind his father that she wouldn't want him to be this way. To feel that life has took a turn for the worse; to feel that it will never get better.

When Logan was ten he had subconsciously decided that it was no longer useful to be persistently trying to tell his father to be happy. It was also around the time when his father had gotten even worse than before. Once or twice a week, his father wouldn't even show up home and in this time Logan had slowly been learning the concept of cooking. He knew he would never be as good as his mother but he had to find a way to survive through the detestable situation he was stuck in. It seemed that the only escape he could find from the reality was through his school studies.

Four years after her death, Logan was twelve and if things weren't bad enough they somehow managed to reach a rock bottom. His father had managed to come home, a thousand miles away from being sober, and rage filled his eyes. Logan had made him dinner, hoping it would make him feel better but it ended with a boy's nose bleeding and bruises all over his torso. For the first time, Logan's father had unmercifully beaten him and it surely wasn't the last that it happened.

Over the five years they grew to be worse. It had started with bruises but over the past year it became broken bones and scarring lacerations. Occasionally, when dinner was the breaking point in his father's day, the knife would end up being used. Scars littered his body, and yet each one he remembers just how he got it. He lives in fear of his life; hoping that maybe he'll find a way out of it all. Maybe, he hoped, when college comes he'll be able to get far away from the revolting horrors of this life. Logan is seventeen and for almost ten years his life has been a living hell, but in his senior year he's about to find the one thing he's been missing.

The thought of "_It's the first day of school_" pounded in my head as I woke up to sound of a bird chirping just outside my window. Along with that thought came that constant reminder of "_only one more fucking year left_". I ran my hand through my dark brown hair in an attempt to soothe the pain that erupted through my head. I stared in the darkness that surrounded me for a few moments as I mentally prepared myself for what seemed to be just another day of my life. After a few minutes, I lifted the heavy blanket that cascaded around my lithe body. Pain spread like wildfire through my back but I ignored it as I struggled to get up. My father had hit me just the other night and I think he broke another one of my ribs.

I gently placed my feet on the carpet and began to slide in a tired fashion towards my closet. I shuffled through the hanging clothes in a lackadaisical manner grabbing whatever I felt like wearing. I usually just threw on nice dress shirts and khaki jeans but I felt like utter crap, so I opted for a plain black zip-up sweatshirt and a pair of jeans that had a small tear on the left knees. I had also picked out a dark blue shirt, or at least I hoped it was blue because I couldn't see that well in the lack of light.

After getting dressed, I continued through my usual morning routine. When I reached the bathroom I looked in the mirror at the hideous reflection. Light from the bathroom window seemed to ricochet off my pallid skin. Chocolate brown eyes, the color that had belonged to my mother, brimmed with scrutiny. Underneath my eyes, dark circles lingered. My lips displayed their complete imperfection; the top uncharacteristically thin and the lower flipped out as if in a constant pout. My short brown hair stuck out in all directions from severe bed head. I not only felt but looked like a mess. As I brushed my teeth with an intense OCD manner, I couldn't get out the thought of how disgusting I was. When I was done and had washed my face, I merely slumped to the kitchen.

As I made my way there, I only hoped that he wasn't up yet and I could simply slide my way out of the house. To my own disappointment he was in the kitchen but luckily he was passed out on the floor wallowing in his own puke. I stared at him a moment, contemplating if I should clean it up because he wasn't but I didn't want to move him in fear of waking him up. It would surely end badly for me if he did. I let out a sigh in realizing that I would just have to do it when I get home and went to grab an apple from a bag that sat in the refrigerator. I snatched an apple up, grabbed my black backpack by the front door and went to school.

I sighed heavily as I walked through the doors of the school. It was senior year, but it was still going to be just like any other horrible year filled with no friends and the scrutinized stares of all the other students. I may be a genius and they hate me for it, but they never really gave me a chance anyways. I couldn't help but to feel lonely as I glanced around the hallway seeing students getting excited. It just made me feel like I could die and no one would notice or care.

The first bell rang as I stepped over the border of the doorway into the mildly filled classroom. Not one of the students was in a seat when I arrived so I picked a seat in the front only later to find out that we were going to have assigned seats when the teacher came bustling through the door.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry I'm a tad late guys!" a high pitch voice flew out from the teacher. "Okay, first we're going to have assigned seats." Her voice flew out of her mouse-like frame in one quick huff.

"Seriously? But we're seniors!" a deep slightly annoyed voice erupted out of one student surrounded by a group of friends. He was tall, easily at least six feet, and had a muscular frame.

The small teacher let out a small sigh. "I know, I know, but it's only so I can get to know you all a little better. However, I've heard plenty about your attitude from the other teachers, Kendall." She attempted to make a threatening look at the boy but she couldn't help but to feel intimidated. Caving in to the teenager, she continued on, "Anyways, let's start with Jennifer Alema right here…" The petite, bleached hair woman gestured to a chair.

I mentally groaned when I had heard and finally recognized Kendall. I never had him in a class before but I've heard rumors from students passing by in the hall. Captain of the high school varsity hockey team, looks that could kill, and countless friends, he was the definition of Mr. Popularity. From where I had gotten up out of the desk he looked just like all the other fakes in the school. He seemed self-centered, arrogant and judgmental.

"Logan Mitchell" The small woman barely reaching over 5'2'' broke me from my thoughts while gesturing to a seat. "Take this seat next to Kendall please."

'_Of course, just my luck'_ I thought. She probably thought I'd be a 'good influence' on him. I grudgingly made my way to the seat next to him. This was going to be a painful class. I took the seat and glanced over at him only to find that he was looking right at me. The flash of green eyes blinded me and I was forced to abruptly look away. I could feel blood rushing to my face as I tried to ignore the hole he was burning into me with his eyes.

I pulled out a notebook and attempted to pay attention to the teacher but the only thing I managed to understand was when she announced herself as Ms. White. After that it was a complete and useless blank. After ten minutes of being unable to focus, a folded piece of paper lands on my desk. I stared at it for a few moments trying to figure out whether or not I should open it. I figured it couldn't hurt.

_"Hi, I'm Kendall."_

I let out an audible sigh that caused the teacher to stop for a moment as she just glared at me then quickly went back to talking. '_It's great to know I'm gonna be on her good side'_ I thought, sarcasm filling my mind. I looked over to him only to find him with a big goofy grin slapped across his face. I slowly turned back to the note with a small, awkward smile and wrote back.

**"Hi…what's up?"**

I stared at what I wrote for a few seconds questioning my sanity and decided that whether I passed this note or not, it was already gone. I lightly tossed the paper to the other desk and watched him open it. A quiet snicker came out and I could only feel regret surging through my bones. _"Why did I partake in this?" _He quickly scribbled a response down and gave back the piece of paper to me.

_"Not much, Ms. White is boring me and I wanted to get to know you, Logan. So why is it that I've never really seen you around before? You're not new are you?"_

I reread the note at least four times to make sure that it wasn't some kind of joke. Why would one of the most popular guys at school want to know an academic nerd like me? I stole another glance at him and his eyes still lingered on my frame. His eyes were stunning though the way that they pierced through, their emerald green sparkling underneath the lights of the classroom. I decided to reply.

**"No. I'm not new at all. I've been going to this school district the all of my life. You probably don't know me because I don't really talk to anybody. Nobody really decided to approach me".**

I tossed the paper back and within mere seconds it was back on my desk. "_Wow that boy responds fast"._

_"That's Strange. You seem so nice. Tell me about yourself, I want to get to know you better."_

I was only a little reluctant to start writing this time. Although, I absolutely loathed writing or talking about myself. I'm much more of a listener than a talker.

**"I'll be honest, I'm a nerd and there's not much more to it."**

I slid him the note while a smile full of embarrassment covered my face. I felt like a complete idiot for writing those things but it was the truth. I'm nothing more than a nerd. I glanced at Kendall for a moment and saw that he seemed a little bummed by my response but he quickly covered it up, thinking nobody noticed it. Nobody had, except for me. My stomach churned and I felt souring thinking about the traces of sadness that flitted in his eyes for that short time. Guilt flooded my emotions but I couldn't figure out whether it was because I had judged him when I first saw him or if I felt this way because I was the one that hurt him.

He passed the paper back to me again and this time it read:

_"I bet there's more than that to you. What's your favorite subject? Do you like English so far?"_

I could feel a small smile tug at my lips as I read the note. It felt good that someone actually cared enough to get to know me. I looked at the teacher to make sure that she hasn't become aware of the situation. Luckily, she was extremely oblivious to everyone as she rambled on about 19th century literature. As much as I love academics, English and History were definitely never on my favorites list. I struggled to figure out symbolic meanings and learning about the past never really took my interest.

**"Science—Anatomy, Physiology and Biology if you want to be exact. English is okay but I've never been any good at it. I don't even know what she's talking about right now."**

I gave Kendall back the note. Moments later he was laughing out loud and grabbing the teacher's attention.

"Kendall! Do you find something funny about the poem 'To a Stranger'?"

"Huh? Oh…no"

"Well since you want to interrupt me, how about you tell the class what it means."

"It's about loving someone for who they are, despite their gender and even though others think that their love is forbidden, he still keeps that person in their heart." He replied. At first he had a proud look on his face but it softened when he got to the end. I was completely shocked. He wasn't even paying attention to the class.

"Oh…that's very…um good." Ms. White was absolutely dumbfounded as she stumbled over her own speech and went back to talking about Walt Whitman as well as more from the Transcendentalist literature movement. After a good minute of trying to convince myself that just happened, I looked down to find the note mocking me on the desk.

_"Ha ha that shut her up for a little bit. Why are you interested in Science? Just wondering :)"_

I could only smirk as I looked at the little smiley face on the note. I had to know how he knew about that poem; he's been paying way more attention to the note than this class.

**"I want to be a doctor I guess. Enough about me though, how did you know what that poem was about? You haven't even been paying attention all of class."**

I slid the note back to him and watched him read it. He contemplated something for a moment then quickly went back to writing more on the note. He threw it on my desk and I unraveled it rapidly like a child on Christmas morning. Maybe I was a little _too_ excited to find out.

_"Dr. Logan! That has a nice ring to it! I'll tell you a little secret. I knew the answer to her question because I like a lot of poetry. I guess I just got lucky though."_

_'Dr. Logan'…._ I couldn't help but to smile at it myself. At that moment the bell rang and took me out of my reverie. I looked towards Kendall who had a grin on his face, his green eyes were deep. I couldn't help but to start to smile back.

**Author's Note: Um So If you guys want me to keep writing this just leave some reveiws. Its my first btr fic, though I guess I like to suck and go AU on everyone's asses with it. AU is just sooo much easier for this fandom in my opinnion so actual ones around the band that are creative should get a lot of props. Also I don't know if that should be the end of chapter one or not. Its a decent place to leave it but I'm still contemplating on continuing the day. So tell me what you all think. By the way, Logan is mine so none of you can touch him, except maybe Kendall...maybe _**


	2. Chapter II: Love

**Author's Note****: So, I know that I'm not a fast updater normally, but in all honesty I did go into a crazy depression because I was rejected by the guy I'm **_**still **_**in love with. And please nobody say it wasn't love because one, it still hurts every day because I always think of him, two, (I'm gay) I've never really put any real effort into any relationship (including friendship) with a guy, it's always been initiated by the other but he was the first guy I wanted to and put the effort into being something to him where now he considers me one of his best friends, and three, I care more for him than anyone I know, so to me this is love, if it's not then I don't know what it is. I mean I'm happy he has a girlfriend, also one of my best friends, and he's still my friend but it's a just such a downer. Anyways, I also have like this messed up writer's block. I need to take a class on writing smooth dialogue or something because I fucking suck at it. Every time I write it, I feel like it doesn't flow right…it's just awkward as hell. Anyways for you Kogan lovers, or if you are just stalking, I am back with Chapter Two. I actually know where I'm going with this, it's just like I need to write to these points that I want to be at in the story. I think I'm going to do a small form of 100 theme challenge but not sure on it completely, because it's really just there for inspiration over anything else. Anyways, I look forward to any reviews, suggestions, ideas, comments, love and hate notes, death threats or whatever floats your boat. Anyways, here's what you been waiting for, my small rant is over so enjoyed the second chapter of **_**The Glory in the Flower.**_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Big Time Rush, the show, music or the guys as much as I wish I did. This is a fan written story that is purely meant to be a "healthy" waste of my time as well as the others who have a 'raving addiction to fanfiction'.

Chapter Two: Love

I loved the way her smile crept onto her face when she saw me. I loved the blond hair that cascaded elegantly down her left shoulder as she walked up to me. I loved the way she greeted me with a kiss that was sweet, chaste and calming. I loved how she had an elegant and lightweight body and her walk was jaunty. I, Kendall Knight, loved many things about the wondrous Jo Harper. At least I think I'm in love with her.

I never really understood the whole concept of love. How could some people just be able to find it in someone else? They would find love and end up spending the rest of his or her life with that person. But how did they _know_ that it was him or her? If I understood, I guess I wouldn't be asking these questions.

I felt so happy with Jo, but it wasn't perfect. We fought about things all the time, the little ones mostly. Sometimes she would get too touchy-feely with Jett Stanton and that really pissed me off. It literally freaked me out how close they got and sometimes I even feel the kisses they shared junior year in the play were done _too well._ I may or may not have said a few things to her, but I'm not painted in the perfect light either.

She weaved her hand into mine as we began to casually stroll down the hallway. "Hey baby, How you doin' today?" Her lips pulled into a smile as she broke me from my small break from reality. I raised one of my eyebrows and gave her a 'did you really just ask me that question on the first day of school?' look.

"It's been okay. I talked back to a teacher already and now I'm holding hands with my girlfriend. Life's good." I laughed it off as I continued. "So how did your first class go?"

After that my speech kind of worked without the effort of really listening to the conversation. I filled in all the correct places with the 'yeah', 'Mhmm' and 'cool' phrases because for some reason my mind just couldn't pay attention today. It was like someone just took a hockey stick and smacked me upside my head, making all my thoughts jumbled and disordered. My mind just kept going back to that English class no matter how hard I tried to listen to Jo talk about her musical theatre class.

I was just so enraptured by that Mitchell kid, almost like I _already_ met him but that couldn't be possible. I didn't know what it was that was pulling me to be interested in him, but maybe that was just his reclusiveness that did it. I've always wanted to get to know those who weren't very outgoing, even from a young age.

It wasn't just that though. Everything was drawing me in as much as it killed me inside to admit to it. His short spiky brunette locks, his pallid skin, and his brown eyes that carried a lingering sadness. I just wanted to know what was inside; it was almost like I had to break the shell that was there to see the other side nobody knew existed.

Everyone was too focused on seeing the introverted, nerdy kid that walked among the shadows from class to class. I wanted to see the kid that ran through fields of high grasses and flowers and danced in the rain just because it 'felt like the fun thing to do'. I was going to figure out Logan Mitchell as if it was the last thing I'll ever do.

"Who is that over there, Kendall?" I hear Jo ask as I look up to see where she gestured with a swift motion of her head. Of course it was Logan, and I felt bad that nobody knew who he was.

"That's Logan. He's a senior too."

"Is he a new kid?" She looked at me expectantly with her brown eyes for my answer.

"No, he isn't. I think he's nice." I smiled thinking back to me showing off to Ms. White. I still can't believe I told him I liked poetry, I hadn't even told Jo about that. She had to be nosey and go through my stuff to find poetry and lyrics scribbled on endless pages of notebook paper. It was different in English though, it was like I had to tell him though; something was just urging me to do so.

"Is that so?" She seemed somewhat upset that I was starting to daze out of the conversation.

"Yeah, well, as much as I'd hate to leave you, I need to go to history. See you later," I said with a goofy grin and kissed her good bye. I walked over to the classroom I needed to be at as the bell rang. When I stepped over the threshold and made it just in time to find that ninety percent of the seats were occupied. I trudged to the back of the room and waited for the boredom that was second period history class to begin. As I was about to place my head on my desk, I noticed that Logan had this class too. He sat at a desk, attentively taking notes on the old teacher who actually decided to teach the first day of school instead of the regular syllabus crap they give the first day. He was sitting over one row to my right and one seat ahead of me.

I couldn't fall asleep in class for some reason because all I did was watch Logan take down his notes. It was strange to say the least. At first I just watched his pencil slide gracefully across the page, then stop for a few moments, and continue its role. Slowly, though, my eyes started to wander and I just looked at his skin, his hair, his slim neck that grew out of his sweatshirt and I couldn't look away. Everything about him was interesting to me and I couldn't explain why. My mind was exploding with confusion.

As I sat there with the intensity of these emotions increasing, I knew what I had to do. I asked the teacher to excuse myself to the bathroom and I quickly headed that way. When I reached the bathroom and surveyed to see if anyone was in there and rushed to one of the stalls, closing the door behind me. I reached into my inside jacket pocket to get what I was looking for: a syringe already filled with heroin. With the syringe in hand, I tapped it to make sure there were no air bubbles in it. I lifted the sleeve of my jacket to reveal my forearm. I injected the drug into my skin leaving a bubble just beneath the surface of my skin. I put the syringe down and using my now free hand, quickly smacked the skin.

Relief from the strong emotions washed over me as I felt the smack spread through my arm. It was everything I needed and more as it left me to not feel so…_good._ My mind stopped being so…obsessive on Logan. At first I just wanted to float in this state that permeated my mind but I couldn't sit in there the rest of class and I sure as hell didn't want to risk someone coming in. I discarded the empty syringe and covered it with some paper towels. I quickly exited the bathroom.

I sighed as I made my way back to class and took my seat. Yet, after all I did I still couldn't stop my eyes from wandering onto Logan again. My mind was mostly free from him but I still couldn't control the rest of me. I wanted to know him, to see what was going on when the gears in his head were grinding. Though, it felt more than a want. I couldn't deny that there was some power that held me to figure it all out. _Need_ wasn't really the right word though. _Need_ implies that it would always be that way, I'm sure it would go away after a few weeks from now. At least I think it would.

It was at that moment that class ended and Logan turned around and found me staring into space, or well more so of staring at him. "Hey, you okay?" he asked as I mentally hoped he wouldn't notice that I was high. I looked at him and noticed he was biting his lip with a face containing a strange mix between concerned and concentration. It was his turn to try and figure me out, too bad for him that the real, unhappy Kendall was so far buried that nobody even knew he existed.

"Just fine, dude" I replied. I couldn't pull my eyes away from his face, even after the concerned part had faded. This was it, I had to figure him out and I needed to get him somewhere I can do that. "Hey, maybe we should get to know each other better sometime?" I said as I pulled my backpack over my shoulder.

"You mean go out somewhere?" he asked as he raised one eyebrow slightly. "Um…I doubt you'd like to hang out with me." I felt a little shocked by his answer. Was I really that _intimidating_? Who cares if I was Mr. Popular? I wanted to get to know him better.

"Why? You seem nice enough? Come on, we'll go see a movie or something." I said as we began to walk out of the deserted classroom into the hallway.

"Alright," he said. We stared at each other for a long moment of silence. I stared into his chocolate brown eyes. They were just so…sad. Before, I knew it, I was lifting my hand and placing it on his cheek. It stayed there for a few seconds where he instinctively leaned into the warmth but I brought it back down after regaining my control.  
"Um, I have to go" I sputtered, my mind fucking screaming in panic. I was beyond confused, I was freaking out. "See ya tomorrow!" I shouted back to him as I walked quickly. Before turning a corner, a snuck a quick glance at him. His sadness still lingered in his eyes, but his posture had changed. He was holding his right arm up above his chest, and his cheeks had turned a light shade of pink. As I turned the corner my mind only wondered _'What the hell is happening?'_

**Author's Note: Well, that was the second chapter. I hope it gave some insight into Kendall's character. Kendall and Logan are both very similar because they are trapped in a sort of shell to protect themselves from the people around them. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter because I'm not totally in awe of it to be honest. Um, I'm not really sure when the next chapter is going to be up, but I doubt it's going to be this week unless I get EXTREMELY inspired because I'm working a lot this weekend. I'll try to get it up in this week, if not, next week! So please comment if you have any suggestions or critique because I want to be as good as I can be. **


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